


Blue and the Grey

by StellaRivers



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Aliens Made Them Do It, Anal Sex, Andorian Anatomy, Andorian Flirting, Andorian/Cardassian, Andorians, Angry Sex, Because I can’t not write Garashir, But he won’t let that stop him, Cardassian Anatomy, Cardassian flirting, Cardassians, Crossover, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Filth, Floor Sex, Garak likey them blue Andorians, Gay Alien Sex, Gay Sex, Gratuitous Smut, Impatient Garak, Impatient Shran, Implied Shran/Archer, Impulsive Garak, Impulsive Shran, Interspecies Sex, I’m so very sorry, I’m sorry, M/M, Only my third attempt at smut, Oral Sex, POV Shran, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rare Pairings, Rough Sex, Sex, Shameless Smut, Shran disapproves of Garak’s lies, Smut, The Prophets did it, Time Travel, Utter Filth, Wall Sex, aggressive flirting, and this is what i come up with, cursed fanfic, implied garashir, wtf is wrong with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29199513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellaRivers/pseuds/StellaRivers
Summary: Commander Thy’lek Shran’s battle cruiser the Kumari flies straight into a temporal anomaly, sending him 200 years into the future and damaging his ship. Looking for help, he stumbles across a futuristic space station and runs into the resident plain, simple tailor, who seems to know a suspicious amount about interstellar phenomena and the damaged systems on the Kumari. He also seems drawn to the Commander’s blue skin and antennae. But Shran is far more interested in the ridges and scales that adorn the sexually ambiguous tailor’s face and wonders how far down they go…
Relationships: Thy’lek Shran & Elim Garak, Thy’lek Shran/Elim Garak
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Brought to you by Stella’s Filthy Mind ™, Garak/Shran! AKA Shrarak…Garan…Shrak…Gran…Idk, you decide! Originally conceived as a simple one shot smutfest but I needed to add a time travel element to make any of it work…ya know, since Shran is over 200 years older than Garak…talk about a sugar daddy…*ahem* then it just kind of got away from me, so much so that they end up fucking twice—you’ve been warned. I didn’t really want to post a 9,000-word story all at once so I’ve split it into 6 chapters; the smut is in chapters 3 and 5. 
> 
> If you’re wondering what possessed me to write this, I have no idea, it just hopped into my mind and refuses to leave. Andrew Robinson and Jeffrey Combs, if by some bizarre twist of fate you’re reading this, it’s not too late to turn back, the exits are here , here  and here  . You definitely have better things to do than read this filth. 
> 
> Garak’s Cardassian anatomy comes from tinsnip’s Speculative Cardassian Reproductive Xenobiology. Shran’s Andorian anatomy comes from my own twisted mind but is suspiciously similar to human anatomy because I have no imagination. Before anyone asks, I have no idea when this happens in either show’s timeline but it doesn’t really matter. 
> 
> The title is kind of a play on Q and the Grey (or that episode of Voyager where Q tries to mate with Captain Janeway) but I kind of struggled with the title and I don't really like it so if anyone can think of a better one, I'm all ears.

The large, round, bright-white spatial anomaly stared at Commander Shran and his crew, taunting them. Shran stared back at it as if he could challenge it, but it just sat there. Inanimate. Unthinking. Unfeeling. 

“What is that!?” Shran demanded from no-one in particular. 

“It’s some kind of anomaly, Commander,” an Ops officer replied. 

“I can see it’s an anomaly!” Shran snapped back, “what kind of anomaly!?” 

“I’d love to be able to tell you, but these readings make no sense.” 

“Let me see!” 

Shran pushed the Ops officer away from his console, looking at the readings himself. His antennae moved backwards as he read. 

“These readings make no sense!” he eventually announced. 

The Ops officer shot Shran an “I told you so” expression but thought better of saying anything. Shran withdrew from the Ops station and took his place back in the Captain’s chair. 

“Can we get closer?” Shran asked his pilot. 

“Possibly, but there’s no telling what it could do to the ship,” the pilot replied. 

“Take us…a thousand kilometres closer…slowly…one-quarter impulse.” 

“Ay, Commander.” 

The Kumari edged closer to the anomaly. Shran waited impatiently for the infuriating object on the viewscreen to get closer. It appeared to twinkle and flash, almost as if it were winking and taunting him. The ship came to a stop. 

“Anything?” Shran asked his Ops officer. 

The officer regarded his console with confusion. 

“If anything, these readings make even less sense.” 

“What!? That can’t be!” 

“See for yourself, Commander.” 

Shran rushed to the Ops console and read the nonsensical readings. His antennae shot back as he roared and punched the console. 

“Ouch…” he mumbled sheepishly, cradling his knuckles in his other hand and walking back to the Captain’s chair again. 

“How close can we get without the ship being affected?” 

“Well, considering that we don’t know what the anomaly is or what it does, I have no idea.” 

“Take us closer,” Shran told his pilot. 

“Commander, that’s inadvisable,” the pilot protested. 

“I don’t care, take us closer!” Shran snapped, then added, “slowly.” 

“Yes, Commander,” the pilot sighed. 

Once again, they moved towards the anomaly…agonisingly slowly. Shran tapped his foot impatiently, antennae twitching in annoyance. 

“Uhh…Commander…” the pilot started. 

“What!?” 

“I’ve lost control of the ship.” 

“You’ve what!?” 

“The anomaly must have some kind of gravitational field, it’s pulling us in.” 

“Compensate! Reverse impulse, full power!” 

“No effect.” 

“Reverse thrusters!” 

“No effect.” 

“Reverse warp engines!” 

“No effect.” 

“I’m getting a little tired of hearing that phrase.” 

“Commander, we’re going to be pulled into the anomaly in five, four, three…” 

“All hands brace for impact!” 

“Two, one!” 

The Kumari shook violently from the impact of the anomaly. There was a flash of brilliant white light, followed by a reduction in the shaking until it stopped. 

“Damage report,” said Shran cautiously. 

Reports from all over his ship started coming in. 

“Navigation’s down,” said the navigator. 

“Ops isn’t working,” said the Ops officer. 

“Tactical’s gone,” said the tactical officer. 

“Is there anything that _does_ work?” asked Shran. 

“Manual helm control works, but we only have enough power to get a few light years,” the pilot replied. 

“Can we at least get a scan of the local area to see if there are any M-class planets?” 

“A very limited one,” the Ops officer responded, furiously jabbing at his console. 

“Do it,” Shran told him. 

The Ops officer prodded at his console again, desperately trying to get it to do something. 

“Scan in process, Commander,” he said, “it might take a while.” 

The scan took what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only a few minutes. 

“There’s an M-class planet just two light years away, Commander…oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, warp-capable civilisation, temperate climate…there also appears to be a space station of some kind orbiting it, also inhabited.” 

“Sounds like someone on that planet or the station might know how to fix the Kumari.” 

“Or at least provide us with food and shelter until we fix it ourselves.” 

“Set a course!” 

“Yes, Commander.” 

After an agonising journey, Shran’s ship arrived at the mysterious planet. Shran and the crew organised four landing parties, each consisting of five officers, to go to the planet and the station. 

“Alpha-team will go to the southern continent, Beta-team will go to the northern continent, Gamma-team will go to the middle continent and Delta-team will go to the space station. Keep your comm lines open at all times. The transporters are all offline so we’ll need to take shuttles. Good luck, everyone.” 

The landing parties got into their respective shuttles and headed for the planet. Shran got in with Delta-team, heading towards the space station orbiting it. It was a large, round, greenish-grey monstrosity, with four long, curved pylons sticking out of the top and four more pylons sticking out of the bottom. As they approached, Shran noticed some more small ships flying around the station, heading towards the pylons. 

“Head for one of the pylons, that seems to be where ships are docking,” Shran said to the shuttle pilot. 

“Yes Commander.” 

The shuttle moved towards one of the upper pylons, following a very sleek, advanced-looking freighter. 

“Looks like we’re in a technologically advanced area of space,” one of the Delta-team members observed. 

“Indeed it does,” Shran agreed. 

After the freighter had docked, the pilot brought the shuttle in to dock. 

“Deep Space Nine to Andorian shuttle,” came a gruff voice over the comm system, “are you registered to dock?” 

Delta-team looked at each other in confusion. 

“No,” Shran eventually said, “our ship is nearby and badly damaged, we’ve come to ask for help fixing it.” 

A long silence followed, then the docking doors opened and the shuttle entered. The Andorians exited the shuttle and were greeted by a tall, blonde, stern-looking man with very smooth facial features in a brown uniform. 

“Commander Thy’lek Shran, of the Andorian Battle Cruiser Kumari,” Shran said to the man by way of introduction. 

“Chief Constable Odo, Head of Security aboard Deep Space Nine,” Odo replied. 

“Pleased to meet you, Chief Constable Odo.” 

“I’ll contact Engineering and get someone to help y…Andorian battle cruiser?” 

“Yes…we _are_ Andorians, after all.” 

Shran twitched his antennae to accentuate the point. 

“I can see you’re Andorians, but battle cruisers have been out of commission for nearly two hundred years.” 

“They most certainly have not! Two hundred years ago, our people didn’t even have spacecraft!” 

“Two hundred years ago, your people were most definitely cruising round the galaxy picking fights with other species, in battle cruisers.” 

Shran’s antennae shot backwards angrily. 

“Are you calling me a liar!?” 

“Hmm…” Odo considered, “I’ll admit it is unusual for an Andorian to lie…” 

“The anomaly!” a member of Delta-team piped up, “could it have been a temporal anomaly as well as a spatial one?” 

“With those readings, it could have been anything. But, tell me, good Constable, what year is this?” 

“Twenty-three seventy.” 

“Oh dear. It _has_ been about two hundred years. We’re stranded two hundred years into the future.” 

Shran wasn’t sure if Odo believed him or not, but he seemed sympathetic. 

“I wouldn’t say stranded…I’m sure Engineering will be able to repair your ship and we will do all we can to try and send you back to your time.” 

“Thank you, Constable.” 

“In the meantime, feel free to have a walk along our promenade,” Odo gestured with his hand towards the circular walkway just outside the docking bay. 

Shran nodded and stepped onto the promenade, the rest of Delta-team following suit. Shortly, all the team members were drawn towards different shops and food outlets, leaving Shran wandering around looking for something that interested him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shran meets a mysterious tailor...

As he walked around the promenade, Shran began to notice some people staring at him. At first, he ignored them, but it very quickly got annoying. 

“Hey!” he shouted at one of the starers, “what are you looking at!? Have you never seen a blue man with antennae before?” 

He pointed aggressively at his antennae, which were angrily pressed back against his head. 

“O…of course I have…” the other man stammered, “but I’ve never seen anyone dressed like you before.” 

“What’s wrong with my outfit!?” Shran demanded. 

“N…nothing! Nothing at all! I’ve just never seen anything like it before, that’s all.” 

Shran screwed up his face, turned his back on the man and continued walking. What did these people have against a good old Andorian leather military jumpsuit? Maybe it was the “old” that was the problem. The people on the station seemed to be wearing much thinner, more breathable clothing, not the type of thing anyone wore in his century, but maybe that was the fashion now. Maybe he could do with a change of outfit. 

As if by some divine hand, a clothing shop caught Shran’s gaze: Garak’s Clothiers. It seemed like a respectable enough establishment—several mannequins in the window dressed in clothes that appeared to be fashionable in this century, along with a rail at the side filled with equally fashionable-seeming clothes. Shran walked into the shop and began pawing through the clothes on the rail. 

“Welcome to Garak’s Clothiers, how may I help you?” 

Out of the back room came an impeccably-dressed, well-groomed, grey-skinned man, with various scaly ridges along his high forehead, reptilian nose and around his huge glassy blue eyes. More ridges adorned his chiselled jawline and the sides of his elegant neck. 

“Mr Garak, I presume,” said Shran, antennae twitching forwards. 

“Just plain, simple Garak, please.” 

“Thy’lek Shran. Or just plain, simple Shran.” 

The grey man walked closer to Shran with a curious expression on his face. 

“Shran…do you see anything in particular you like?” 

Shran’s antennae nearly jumped off his head before he realised what Garak meant. 

“I’ve only just started looking.” 

“May I?” 

Garak moved towards the clothes on the rail. Shran gestured for him to go ahead. He watched intently as Garak’s grey hands filed through the clothes, skilfully flicking each item aside to examine the next one. 

“You’re Andorian, aren’t you?” Garak asked conversationally. 

“I am, yes. If you don’t mind my asking, what race are you?” 

“Cardassian. You don’t know of us?” 

“I’ve never been to this region of space before.” 

_Or time_ , Shran thought. 

“I see. Are you, perchance, an officer on that Andorian shuttle that docked about an hour ago?” 

“That…sounds right.” 

“I hear that you ran into a spatial anomaly two hundred years ago and ended up here.” 

Garak turned towards Shran, fluttered his eyelashes and smiled. It was probably supposed to be an innocent expression, but it just made Shran suspicious of him. 

“How would you know about that? I thought you were a tailor.” 

Shran’s antennae pointed forwards suspiciously. 

“I have other hobbies.” 

“Such as hacking into this station’s communications systems.” 

“Hacking is such a strong word…” 

“But it’s what you’re doing. I assume your Captain knows about this?” 

“Not exactly.” 

“You dishonest, dishonourable, disreputable…” 

“Continue to flatter me like that and I’ll give you more than just a new outfit.” 

Garak was nose-to-nose with Shran, bearing his pointy reptilian teeth. Shran considered the man for a moment. He may be a liar but he certainly had computer skills of some description. 

“You know,” Shran started, already regretting what he was about to say, “many of the computer systems on my ship were badly damaged by the anomaly. I realise they’re out of date by now, but you seem…adaptable. If you help me repair some of those systems, I won’t inform your captain about your _extra-curricular activities_.” 

“I think,” Garak began, stepping back, “this style would suit you.” 

He pulled out an elegant navy-blue tunic with a square neckline and silver trim along the neckline, cuffs and waistline. 

“Do we have a deal?” Shran closed the gap between himself and Garak. 

“Fine,” Garak replied, “I suppose. But this had better be worth me closing my shop early.” 

“Ah, yes, I’m sure your plethora of customers will be sorely disappointed,” Shran made a point of looking around the empty shop. 

“Just try this on,” Garak thrust the tunic into Shran’s arms. 

“Doesn’t it come with pants?” 

Garak pulled out a pair of matching trousers from the rail. 

“I forgot. How careless of me.” 

Shran took the trousers from Garak and went into the dressing room. He furiously changed into the navy-blue outfit, begrudgingly admiring how the cut and the fabric flattered his figure. Garak really had an eye for this sort of thing—or for Shran’s body at least. But he really couldn’t trust Garak, with his borderline criminal hacking, his slippery customer service demeanour, his general dodginess, his grey reptilian skin, his scaly face ridges, his piercing eyes…

Shran brought himself back to reality and pulled back the curtain. Garak was standing directly in front of it with an expectant smile on his face. 

“Well?” he asked. 

“I’ll take it,” Shran replied, “what kind of currency do you use here?” 

“Latinum.” 

“What?” 

“Latinum. It’s a precious metal used as currency on many worlds.” 

“I don’t know what that is, but I’m sure I have something on my ship you would consider acceptable payment.” 

Garak licked his lips briefly. 

“We can discuss it later,” he replied silkily, “right now, we have…business to discuss.” 

Garak quickly closed up his shop and took him across the station to his quarters. They were exactly as neat and impeccable as the man himself, but somehow Shran knew there was more to them than met the eye—also like the man himself. Shran eyed him carefully as he approached his console. 

“Now, then…twenty-second century Andorian battle cruiser, name of the Kumari…” Garak typed some commands into his console, “ah! Handsome ship!” 

“Thank you…I think.” 

“Very sleek exterior…wonderful hull…nice engines…” 

“Can you fix it or not?” 

“Oh, I imagine so. I’m not familiar with a lot of these computer systems, but a computer is still a computer, no matter how…vintage.” 

“Hey! That ship was cutting edge in the twenty-second century, far more advanced than anything humans or Vulcans had, and undoubtedly better than your Cardassian ships of the time.” 

“Well, we’re not in the twenty-second century anymore, are we?” 

“No, we’re not, which is the only reason I am associating myself with a scoundrel like you!” 

“What did I tell you about flattery!?” 

“That it would get me more than just a new outfit!” 

“Well, now, I might just have to cash in on that threat!” 

Garak walked right up to Shran’s face. 

“Why don’t you!? Or are you too much of a coward!?” 

“No-one calls me a coward!” 

“Prove it!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shran and Garak get better acquainted 😉

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My theory is, Shran has a lot of body hair because he's from a cold planet and it traps the heat in his body. 
> 
> This is your last warning about weird smut. Read on at your own risk.

Shran’s antennae shot upwards as Garak grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a searing kiss. The Cardassian’s mouth was significantly colder than he was used to, but somehow that just made it all the more bracing. Shran’s hands traced down Garak’s neck ridges, enjoying the little jolts he elicited from pinching them. 

They came up for air and stared at each other for a few seconds. Sbran was still running his fingers along Garak’s ridges. 

“How far down do they go?” he asked suggestively. 

“Why don’t you find out?” Garak leaned into Shran and hissed in his ear. 

Shran snaked his arms round Garak’s back and began unclasping his tunic. There were so many complicated fastenings; figuring out how to unfasten them all was starting to take too much time and kill the mood. Suddenly, Shran had a burst of inspiration. Whilst still fiddling with his hands, he bit down on one of Garak’s neck ridges, gently at first, then harder when he knew Garak could take it. Garak moaned in pleasure; a deep, throaty, growling sound that made Shran want to devour him whole. 

Shran finally managed to unclasp Garak’s tunic and pulled it off him, revealing ridges across his shoulders and down his collarbones, meeting in the centre of his chest and stopping just short of a…something. 

“What’s this?” Shran asked, tracing his blue finger around the spoon-shaped something on Garak’s chest, “it looks like this thing on your head,” he traced the spoon-shaped thing on Garak’s forehead with his other hand. 

“Ahhhhhh…” Garak breathed, leaning into Shran’s touch. 

“Sensetive, are they?” Shran began to poke the centres of the adornments. 

“Ohhhhhhhh…” Garak closed his eyes tightly and grasped Shran’s wrists. 

“That’s right, moan for me, you filthy thing.” 

“Mmmmm…” 

Shran grabbed Garak’s hips and licked the chest spoon. 

“Ahhhhhhh…” Garak grabbed Shran’s shoulders and dug in with his claws. 

“Ooh,” Shran breathed harder as Garak sunk his claws in. 

“My dear,” Garak managed to pant out, “I do believe you’re overdressed.” 

Shran ceased his spoonlicking and breathed a hot breath onto the spoon before pulling away from it. Garak shuddered. 

“Well, we’ll have to correct that, won’t we?” 

Shran unzipped his tunic and teasingly removed it. Garak’s eyes looked like they were about to jump out of his skull. 

“Oh, my.” 

Shran’s bare blue chest was covered in thick white hair, which thinned out towards his stomach and arms. 

“Like what you see?” 

“Are you blue everywhere?” 

“Everything except my hair.” 

“You know…on my planet…blue is considered quite an erotic colour.” 

“Of course it is,” Shran gave Garak a suspicious look. 

“It _is_ ,” Garak insisted, “I am occasionally honest, my dear.” 

“Well, we’ll see about that,” Shran grabbed Garak by the hips again and pulled him in for a long, passionate kiss. 

Garak’s hands pawed through Shran’s thick chest hair, lightly scratching the thick blue skin beneath. 

“I’ll never get used to you mammals and all your body hair,” Garak commented breathlessly. 

“Oh?” Shran raised an eyebrow and his antennae, “been sleeping with many mammals?” 

“Not as many as I’d like…” Garak looked away from Shran and trailed off, “but that’s not important now.” 

Garak resumed pawing Shran’s chest hair. Shran considered needling Garak more about that cryptic comment but had the feeling he wouldn’t get a straight answer. Instead, he ran his fingers down the ridge running down the centre of Garak’s body, from the chest spoon, over his belly and down into his trousers. His hand slipped down the ridge into the Cardassian’s trousers, feeling a curious shape at the bottom of the ridge. 

“What’s this, I wonder?” Shran flicked it. 

“Ah!” 

Shran grinned and pulled Garak’s trousers down. At least they were easier to remove than his tunic. Another spoon sat at the bottom of Garak’s ridge, leading down to a finely scaled slit which was dripping with thick, clear fluid. Shran briefly wondered how everything worked down there for a Cardassian, but his overly aroused mind told him a better idea would be to massage the spoon. 

No sooner had he touched it than Garak buckled and fell to his knees. Shran joined him on the floor and pressed into the spoon. Through his ragged breaths and ever-dripping slit, Garak managed to get Shran out of his trousers. 

“What are you doing to me, you sexy blue man?” 

“Do you need me to draw you a diagram?” 

“You may need to explain what _that_ is.” 

Garak pointed at whatever the hell was going on between Shran’s legs. It was long, fat and covered in the same thick fur that adorned his chest. It stood outwards at a ninety degree angle, pulsing with raised blue blood vessels between the thick white hairs. 

“What, you don’t have one?” 

“I have something similar…but it’s internal.” 

“How do you use it then?” 

“It everts out of my ajan when I’m suitably aroused,” he pointed at the slit between his legs when Shran looked confused. 

“I see…” Shran’s antennae twitched thoughtfully, “so what you’re saying is that it needs more…stimulation.” 

“It wouldn’t go amiss…ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” 

Shran threw Garak to the floor so he was lying on his back, then manouvered himself between his legs and licked at his ajan whilst fingering the lower spoon. Garak’s legs twitched around the Andorian’s shoulders and he grabbed his hair, hissing and moaning in pleasure. As Shran moved down the slit, one of Garak’s claws dug into an antenna. 

“Careful!” Shran barked, “those are sensitive!” 

“Really?” 

Garak wrapped his hands around Shran’s antennae and fiddled with them between his thumbs and forefingers. The antennae twitched happily and curled around the Cardassian’s thumbs. 

“Oh, Shran! What are you doing to me!?” 

“Clearly not enough!” 

Shran licked more aggressively, then removed one of his hands from the spoon and forced a finger into Garak’s ajan. Garak’s entire body convulsed, his back arched and he screamed. 

“You like that, do you?” 

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuugh.” 

Shran inserted another finger in Garak’s ajan. The effect wasn’t as strong but there was a definite gasp. The Andorian poked around in the Cardassian’s dripping wet slit, feeling for whatever lie beneath. He didn’t have to feel very far. Whatever was in there was rock hard, curved and girthy. It wasn’t that long or scaly but it was twitching and poking against the inner lips of the ajan, aching to evert. 

“Come on, Garak…stop holding it in…I know you want to, you dirty lizard…let Uncle Shran take care of you…” 

“Ahhhhhhhhh…” 

Garak everted, revealing a short, fat organ that curved upwards and rested on his groin spoon. Shran immediately got to work with his hands, palming the organ and fingering the ring of fine scales at the bottom. 

“I thought…you’d never…seen…a Cardassian…before,” Garak panted. 

“I haven’t. But I’m a fast learner.” 

“Ohhh…” 

Shran put the Cardassian penis in his mouth and wrapped Garak’s legs around his shoulders. Garak grabbed onto the Andorian antennae and fondled them clumsily in his shaking hands. 

“Why, Garak! I didn’t realise you’d come apart quite this easily,” Shran teased, moving up the Cardassian’s body and resting his chin on his chest spoon. 

“Shut up and fuck me!” 

“My, my, we _are_ impatient, aren’t we?” Shran cradled Garak’s jawline in one hand and traced the chest spoon with the other. 

“Look…who’s…talki…ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” 

Shran slid his member into Garak’s ajan and rubbed his warm, hairy blue body against the Cardassian’s flushed scales. The ajan wasn’t that deep so he had to be careful, but it provided the friction he so sorely needed. Garak wrapped his arms and legs around the Andorian tightly, digging in his heels and claws. 

“Scratch me,” Shran hissed into Garak’s ear, “show me what you can do with those claws of yours.” 

Garak dug into Shran’s thick Andorian skin and dragged his claws down his back, right from his shoulders to his hips. 

“Ahhhhhh…is that the best you can do?” Shran teased. 

Garak growled and repeated the movement, but harder. Shran caught his breath, arched his back and yelled. 

“Shran, you beast,” Garak breathed, “want to nibble on my ridges?” 

Shran smirked, lowered his head to Garak’s neck and bit on his flushed, swollen ridge. 

Garak gasped and whimpered, still clinging onto Shran’s back. 

“Keep scratching,” Shran said between bites. 

Garak’s shaky hands clawed at Shran’s back in jagged, uneven lines, but the Andorian was too far gone to care. He continued to thrust into the Cardssian and bite on his ridges, eliciting delicious moans, gasps and hisses on each thrust. 

“I want to eat you up, Garak,” Shran breathed into Garak’s ear, “I want to lick your ridges raw,” he dragged his rough tongue up Garak’s neck ridge, “I want to fuck you into the ground till you’re a quivering mess on the floor.” 

“I think…you’re going…to get…what you want…ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” 

Garak came all over his stomach, spilling his thick, sticky seed between himself and the sweaty blue body currently fucking him into the ground. The sight of the Cardassian’s glazed-over eyes and breathless form sent Shran over the edge, coming hard inside Garak’s ajan. Shran flopped down onto Garak’s shoulder, groaning and panting into his ear. Garak released Shran’s back and went limp, his breath ragged and uneven, a quivering mess on the floor. His prut retracted and tucked itself away in his ajan. 

“Oh, Garak,” Shran whispered, stroking the Cardassian’s face and looking at him fondly. 

Garak’s eyes slowly refocussed. 

“Shran…” he reached shakily for the Andorian’s face, “what have you done to me?” 

Shran took Garak’s hand and guided it towards his blue face, then leaned in and kissed him. His antennae reached forwards and traced along Garak’s forehead ridges. 

When they were done kissing, Shran rolled off Garak onto his back. They both stared at the ceiling for a few minutes catching their breaths and asking themselves what the hell just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really, really sorry if I scarred anyone. I...I honestly don't know what's wrong with me or why I thought Shran fucking Garak would be a good idea lol.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shran and Garak talk, then go to Shran's ship. Gee, I do wonder what's going to happen when they get there...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a couple of things: 
> 
> 1) Shran and Talas aren't a thing in this it was just the only other Andorian name I could remember, 
> 
> 2) If you thought I was bad at writing smut, just wait till you see how bad I am at writing fluff and serious conversations

“Weren’t we…trying to…fix your ship’s…computer systems?” Garak finally said weakly. 

“Yes…yes, we were,” Shran agreed, sitting up, “you OK?” 

“Of course I am,” Garak said quickly as he sat up, “let’s get dressed and get on with it.” 

Shran and Garak got up off the floor and dressed quickly. 

“Now,” Garak began matter-of-factly, his slightly dishevelled hair the only evidence of their dalliance, “where were we?” 

He stood in front of his console and typed in some commands. Shran watched him admiringly from behind, peeking over the Cardassian’s broad, ridged shoulder. 

“Talas to Shran,” came a message on Shran’s communicator. 

“Shran here,” Shran replied, picking up his communicator. 

“I’ve found some people who can fix our navigation,” Talas continued, “and Beta-team have found an engineering crew to help with the engines. How are things on your end?” 

“I’ve found an…interesting man who’s offered to help us with our computer systems,” Shran replied, sharing an awkward look with Garak. 

“Great! Now all we need to do is figure out what that anomaly is and get back to our own century!” 

“If I may interject,” Garak piped up smoothly, “I may be able to help with that too. I have a little experience with spatial and temporal anomalies.” 

“Who is that? Is that the man who said he’d help with the computer systems?” 

“Yes, he’s a tailor. I’ll explain later. Shran out.” 

Shran set his communicator down and looked over Garak’s shoulder again. He was now looking for spatial and temporal disturbances in the region. 

“Are you sure you’re just a tailor?” Shran asked suspiciously. 

“Quite sure,” Garak replied unconvincingly. 

“Really?” Shran grasped Garak’s shoulders and breathed down his neck. 

“I…uh…” Garak swallowed hard, “what are you doing?” 

“C’mon, Garak,” Shran spoke into Garak’s ear, “you don’t really expect me to believe your ‘humble tailor’ act, do you?” 

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to.” 

“Am I now?” Shran ran a hand up Garak’s shoulder, onto his neck, then back to his shoulder. 

Garak let out a little involuntary gasp. He tried to keep his composure, but Shran could feel his body shaking. 

“I believe I’ve found your anomaly,” Garak announced, “it appeared inside the wormhole near this station a few days ago. It appears to be some kind of electromagnetic disturbance within the structure of the wormhole itself, comprised mostly of anti-time particles.” 

“So…what you’re saying is, it was created here and anti-time sent it back to my century?” 

“Yes…but for some reason, it’s very stable. Almost like it isn’t naturally occurring. Hmm…maybe the Prophets created it…” 

“Who or what are the Prophets?” 

“Oh, they’re non-corporeal aliens that live in the wormhole. Very advanced. The people of Bajor, the planet we’re orbiting, view them as gods.” 

“Interesting. Why would a group of aliens so advanced they’re viewed as gods want to drag my ship and crew two hundred years into the future?” 

“I’m not sure that was intentional. The Prophets don’t really understand the concept of linear time so they may have been trying to reverse-engineer it or some such to help them to understand it better.” 

“Maybe the gods just wanted me to meet you,” Shran kissed Garak’s neck ridge close to his ear. 

Garak inhaled sharply and jumped away from Shran. His face conveyed shock and disbelief for a split second before rearranging itself into a more neutral expression. 

“Are you OK?” Shran asked, curling his antennae in concern. 

“I’m fine,” Garak replied quickly, “we should take a look at your computer systems.” 

“You don’t…regret anything, do you?” 

“Of course not. I just think we should focus on your ship now.” 

“Garak, you’re the worst liar I’ve ever met and that’s saying something. What’s wrong?” 

Garak sighed deeply. 

“If you knew anything about me, you wouldn’t be getting so cosy with me.” 

“Why not?” Shran raised an eyebrow and his antennae. 

“I can’t get into it right now, but suffice it to say I have a rather…unsavoury past.” 

“Your unsavoury past is two hundred years in my future, what would it matter to me?” 

“I’ve done horrible things, it should matter!” 

“Garak…that was obvious from the moment I met you. I’d be lying if I said I trusted you, but I wouldn’t have done any of… _that_ if I didn’t think there was a decent man in you somewhere. You didn’t have to help me, but here you are. I think that counts for something.” 

“I’m a member of a species that’s sexually attracted to the colour blue, what did you expect?” 

“You could easily have told me it was hopeless trying to get back to my century and kept me all to yourself.” 

“No…you’re far too intelligent to have fallen for that.” 

“No, there’s something else going on here…you like someone else, don’t you?” 

“No.” 

“Liar!” 

“Fine. Maybe I like someone, so what? He doesn’t like me back.” 

“Who is he? A pinkskin?” 

“What? No, his skin’s sort of…brown.” 

“But he’s human?” 

“Yes, he’s human. He’s a doctor. The chief medical officer on this station, actually.” 

“They _are_ intoxicating, aren’t they? There’s a human in my century I’m rather fond of. A captain on a Starfleet vessel, as it happens.” 

“I suppose I’d better get on with helping you get back to him.” 

Garak stepped up to the console again and screwed up his face in confusion. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do much without having direct access to your computers.” 

“Are you saying you want to come to my ship?” 

“If you want your computers fixing, I’ll have to.” 

Shran grinned and twitched his antennae. 

“Mr Garak, I thought you’d never ask.” 

Shran took Garak by the shoulders and led him to the docking pylon where the shuttle was, along with the rest of Delta-team. After a tense conversation with Odo, the Andorians agreed to keep their eyes on Garak at all times and beam him back once the transporters were fixed. 

“Don’t let him out of your sight,” Odo said by way of a parting warning. 

“Don’t worry, Constable, I don’t intend to,” Shran twitched his antennae and put his hand on Garak’s back, leading him to the shuttle. 

It was a tight fit which seemed to unnerve Garak somewhat, but the journey was short and Shran stayed close to him the whole time. The Kumari hung in a slightly higher orbit around the planet than Deep Space Nine, powerless and unmoving, when the shuttle docked. Delta-team-plus-one exited the shuttle and Shran took Garak to the main computer console. Most of the other landing parties had already arrived back with equipment and engineers from the planet, and the station had beamed its own engineering team over. 

“My, this is an impressive ship,” Garak commented. 

“I suppose she is,” Shran replied proudly. 

“For a vintage model,” Garak added. 

“What do you expect!? She’s two hundred years old!” 

“Oh, believe me, it shows…” Garak fiddled with the main computer terminal, “ah! How very…quaint. This won’t be hard to fix at all.” 

“Quaint!? How dare you insult my ship like that!” 

“Oh, please, there are far worse words I could use to describe her. Quaint is being polite, I assure you.” 

“I will not stand by while you insult my ship!” 

“What are you going to do about it then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhh this fanfic was such a bad idea never mind lol it will all be over soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More weird smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't as "in the zone" writing this as I was writing the previous sex scene so maybe this one is slightly less disturbing. Or maybe it's worse - you decide! 
> 
> Also, Garak's claustrophobia rears its ugly head but it's quickly swept under the rug because well it's Garak, it's not like I have unresolved issues I'm projecting onto a fictional character or anything.

Shran grabbed Garak by the collar of his tunic and threw him against the wall, pinning him in place with his muscular limbs and twitching his antennae at him. Garak smirked and ran his hands down the sides of Shran’s torso. Shran hummed in pleasure, then bit Garak’s neck ridge. 

“Ahhhhhhh!” Garak threw his head back against the wall and dug his claws into Shran’s hips. 

“Oh! Damnit Garak I forgot how sharp those were!” 

“Not as sharp as your tongue!” 

“Oh, shut up!” 

Shran smashed his mouth into Garak’s and stuck said tongue between the Cardassian’s lips. Garak groaned into the Andorian’s mouth, groping his fingers under Shran’s tunic. 

“Mmm…getting frisky, are we?” Shran teased. 

“No more so than you.” 

Shran was fiddling with the fastenings of Garak’s tunic again, still struggling with it but not as much as before. Garak pawed at Shran’s hairy chest under his tunic, then unzipped it and pulled it off. 

“Why doesn’t yours do that!?” Shran yelled in frustration, tugging at one of the clasps on Garak’s tunic. 

“Because it has no need to. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since somebody tried to remove it?” 

“Yes! A few hours ago!” 

“I mean before that!” 

“I don’t know! Is it more than two hundred years ago? Because that’s the last time I got any.” 

“That’s because a spatial anomaly flung you two hundred years into the future!” 

“Really? I had no idea! I thought we were just chasing spatial anomalies for fun!” 

“Well, maybe you don’t want to get back to your century!” 

“You talk too much!” 

Before Garak could respond, Shran slammed him against the wall again and nibbled on his neck, forcing his head back and making him squirm. He finally unclasped the tunic and removed it, then began fingering the chest spoon. Garak groaned and flung his head onto Shran’s shoulder, allowing the Andorian’s mouth easy access to his neck ridges. Shran bit hard, one of his hands on the chest spoon and the other heading southwards. Garak hissed in pleasure and clumsily grabbed Shran’s sides, unable to get a firm grip with his hands. 

“Now, then…” Shran’s hand stopped just short of the lowest spoon, “why don’t we get a little more comfortable?” 

Shran grabbed Garak by the shoulders, threw him onto the desk and stood over him. 

“Oh, you’re so attractive from this angle,” said Shran, grabbing the waistband of Garak’s trousers and pulling them down. 

“Likewise,” Garak returned. 

Shran leaned right over Garak and grinned in his face, stroking his ridges with his antennae and grabbing his hips with his strong, blue hands. Garak wrapped his arms around the Andorian’s neck, pulled him closer and kissed him. Shran slid his hands across the Cardassian’s hips and fingered the spoon in the middle. With his other hand, he teased at Garak’s ajan, slowly sliding a finger inside. Just like the last time, Garak screamed, bucked his hips and arched his back. 

“That’s right…” Shran hissed into Garak’s ear, “scream for me.” 

He pushed another finger into Garak’s ajan. Garak screamed again. Shran searched for the prut again and found it, rubbing it with his two fingers and trying to tease it out. Soon, it began twitching and poking at the lips of the ajan. Shran rubbed more aggressively. 

“Come on, Garak…evert…I know you want to…” 

“Ohhhhhhhh…” 

The prut twitched more urgently, but Garak still held back. 

“What are you waiting for, Garak? Evert for me. Evert so I can suck you off and fuck you senseless.” 

“Ahh…is that a promise?” 

“As much as promises actually mean to a scoundrel like you.” 

“Oh, more flattery, how could I resist?” 

Garak’s prut finally everted. Shran, true to his word, slid down Garak’s body and sucked it, rubbing the groin spoon with his hands. 

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” 

Garak twitched his legs and reached for Shran’s antennae. He grasped them firmly in his scaly hands and rubbed them between his thumbs and fingers. The antennae curled around Garak’s hands, weaving themselves between his fingers. 

“Oh, Garak, you taste so good!” 

Garak merely groaned in response. Shran continued sucking him off, removing one hand from the spoon and inserting a finger into his ajan. Garak’s body convulsed again at the double stimulation, just about keeping his grip on Shran’s antennae. 

“So impatient,” Shran teased. 

He was sure Garak had some witty retort in the back of his mind as he clamped his lips back around his prut, but by this point he wasn’t exactly in a fit state to speak. Shran grinned internally at having shut Garak up, but it faded somewhat when he considered there must be an easier way to do that. Whatever, this way was more fun. 

Garak’s prut slid out of Shran’s mouth with a satisfying pop. Shran moved his hot, blue form along Garak’s smooth, scaly body until they were nose-to-nose. 

“Ever tasted an Andorian before?” 

Garak shook his head, his hungry blue eyes tracking downwards towards Shran’s blue cock. 

“Patience, Garak.” 

Shran ran a hand teasingly along Garak’s jaw ridge, grinning an entirely too toothy grin at him. Unfortunately, Garak’s impatience got the better of him and he snapped at Shran’s hand. Shran removed his hand just in time to avoid being bitten. 

“Ooh, naughty,” Shran growled, grabbing the Cardassian’s hands and pinning them above his head. 

“Ah! What good will that do?” Garak protested. 

“It’ll keep my hands away from your mouth, if nothing else.” 

Garak grinned. Against his better judgement, Shran crawled further up Garak, sliding his cock into said mouth. 

“No teeth!” he ordered, keeping a firm grip on Garak’s wrists. 

Garak rolled his eyes and sucked. Shran moaned a deep, throaty moan and grasped Garak’s wrists hard. Garak’s hands fought Shran’s, attempting to grab and move them, but the Andorian kept his hands low enough on the Cardassian’s wrists he couldn’t reach. He realised he was running the risk of being bitten in his most intimate area, but he was reasonably confident he could physically overpower Garak should the need arise. 

Suddenly, Garak’s struggling became more urgent and decidedly less fun. He squeaked and kicked desperately, his breathing was erratic and…were those tears? Shran pulled out of his mouth. 

“Garak?” 

“Let go of my wrists!” 

Shran let go and climbed off him. Garak sat up, caught his breath and wiped his face. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, let’s just get on with it.” 

Garak tried to grab Shran’s face but the Andorian held back. 

“No! I’m not just going to fuck you after…whatever that was.” 

“Shran, I assure you, I’m fine. I just got a little…excited.” 

Shran twitched his antennae sceptically. 

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe that.” 

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to.” 

Garak tried again, placing a hand on Shran’s thigh, but it was smacked away. 

“Don’t you try to distract me, Garak, something just happened to you!” 

“Oh, nothing happened. Honestly, you do have a tendency to let your imagination run away with you, don’t you?” 

Shran knew exactly what Garak was trying to do. He really shouldn’t rise to the bait but his Andorian temper couldn’t help it. 

“Are you questioning my integrity!?” 

“Ah, yes, Andorian integrity, how dare anyone insult it.” 

“My people live by a strict honour code which has served us for thousands of years! I wouldn’t expect a liar like you to understand!” 

“Did you just call me a liar!?” 

“Yes, I did, and I stand by it!” 

“Well, maybe you need to teach me a lesson!” 

“Maybe I do!” 

Shran threw Garak back on the desk angrily and bit his neck ridges. He couldn’t believe he’d let the slippery Cardassian rile him up into forgetting about whatever had happened to him, but maybe it didn’t matter, his overly aroused mind reasoned. Garak had a far-too-pleased expression plastered across his reptilian face, which irritated Shran almost to the point of orgasm. Almost. 

“Now…” Shran growled into Garak’s ear, “where were we?” 

He reached his hand down to Garak’s ajan, which fortunately was still wet and his prut was still everted. Good, that would save time. Shran stroked himself back to the brink and slid into Garak’s open ajan, trying to tease but ultimately being far too impatient for that. He thrust in and out of him urgently, heat and friction building between them with each movement. Garak moaned and hissed deliciously in anticipation. 

“Scream for me, Garak,” Shran hissed in the Cardassian’s ear when he sensed he was close to finishing, “stop holding back…give me everything you’ve got, you filthy, scaly, sexy…” 

Shran ran his hands down Garak’s sides, from his armpits to his hips. Garak threw his head back and screamed, coming all over his stomach. 

“Oh, Garak,” Shran breathed, “Garak…” 

Shran came moments later, roaring at the top of his voice and arching his back. When he’d somewhat recovered, he rolled off Garak and stared at the ceiling, panting and shaking just as badly as the man next to him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shran says goodbye to Garak and goes back to his own century.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter...unfortunately, it's the longest one, but it's finally over. No sex as such here, but a bit of...petting, shall we say? Thank you to everyone who's read this craziness, I hope this wraps everything up for you.

After a few minutes, Shran’s head stopped spinning and he turned to look at Garak. He, too, had turned to look at Shran. They stared at each other for a few moments before Garak broke the silence. 

“Wasn’t I…attempting to fix your computer systems?” 

“Yes…yes, I think you were.” 

“Well, I’d better get on with it.” 

Garak stood up, got dressed and went to the computer terminal. Shran put his old uniform back on and observed the Cardassian closely, his antennae curling forwards. 

“Your navigation system is back online,” Garak announced after several minutes. 

“That was quick,” Shran returned. 

“Like I said, these systems are very easy to fix.” 

“Ah, yes. Because they’re so old.” 

“Actually, most Starfleet systems are not much more complex then these, even in this century. Or Cardassian systems, for that matter. Like I said, a computer is a computer.” 

“You’re not going to tell me how you came to have such a flare for this, are you?” 

Garak sighed. 

“No.” 

Shran circled Garak as he worked at the console. 

“You’re not going to tell me why you panicked either, are you?” 

Garak stopped dead and looked at him unblinkingly. 

“That _is_ what happened, isn’t it?” Shran pushed. 

Garak continued to stare at him. 

“Garak, in a few hours, I’m going to be leaving here to go two hundred years into your past. I won’t be able to tell anyone too much about this as it will upset the timeline, besides which nobody in my time will know who you are. Why are you so afraid of telling me anything?” 

Garak blinked and resumed working on the computer terminal. 

“I make it a rule never to tell anyone anything that could…compromise me. Even ghosts from two hundred years ago.” 

“Compromise you? What are you, some sort of spy?” 

Shran burst out laughing. Garak joined in, a bit too enthusiastically. 

“Although it would explain an awful lot if you were…” 

“I’m not,” Garak said far too quickly, “I’m just a simple tailor who’s taken a few computer programming classes.” 

“I can tell when you’re lying, Garak—your lips move.” 

“You weren’t complaining about my lips a moment ago.” 

“You can’t spout lies when your lips are pressed against mine.” 

“I could try…ah! I believe I’ve restored some tactical systems.” 

“Let me look!” 

Shran pushed past Garak and looked at the console. His antennae twitched and curled frantically as he searched through the Kumari’s systems to see what was back online. He had navigation, deflector shields and hull plating, but… 

“Where are my weapons!?” Shran yelled, slamming his fists on the terminal. 

“I was just getting to that,” Garak replied placatingly, nudging Shran out of his way. 

“What about my engines?” Shran demanded. 

“There’s not a lot I can do about them until the engineering teams fix your warp drive.” 

“What about impulse!? Thrusters!?” 

“You are phenomenally impatient, aren’t you?” 

“I want my ship in working order!” 

“It will be, but repairs will take time.” 

“I’m not accustomed to waiting this long!” 

“If you will allow me to work, it will get done a lot faster!” 

Shran read the screen over Garak’s shoulder again and breathed his hot, mammalian breath all over the Cardassian’s neck ridge. Garak’s breath staggered slightly and the ridge darkened. 

“I’ll be done a lot faster if you refrain from doing that,” said Garak, somewhat breathlessly. 

“It’ll pass the time much better if I don’t refrain from it.” 

“I thought you wanted your ship fixing quickly.” 

Shran ran his hand along Garak’s neck ridge. 

“I do, but these are the last few hours I’ll get to spend with you,” he whispered in Garak’s ear. 

Garak shuddered. 

“I still don’t understand why you’re so attracted to me of all people.” 

“You’re a fascinating creature, Garak. Your ridges…” Shran ran a finger along the ridge on the Cardassian’s jaw, “your scales…” he dragged his fingers along the fine scales of Garak’s cheek, “your mind…” he traced Garak’s forehead spoon and he hissed happily, “whatever goes on in there. I wish I could get to know you better,” Shran ran both hands down Garak’s neck ridges, then over his shoulders and down his arms, “then maybe I could disarm you…” his hands ran over Garak’s on the console, “unravel you…” he gently kissed up Garak’s neck ridge, “break you…” he breathed softly into Garak’s ear. 

Garak had frozen to the spot, his hands resting on the console. Shran closed his hands around Garak’s and smiled. 

“Look at what I’ve managed to do to you in just a day…” Shran whispered, “imagine what I could do with a lifetime.” 

Garak exhaled shakily, then finally spoke. 

“And when you knew everything there is to know, you’d get bored of me and leave.” 

“Oh, I think I could spend the rest of my life trying to get to know you and barely scratch the surface.” 

“I’m really not that interesting.” 

“You can’t possibly expect me to believe that.” 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to.” 

Shran released Garak’s hands but continued to observe him closely. The Kumari’s weapons were almost back online, but there was not much to be done until the weapons themselves were physically fixed by the tactical teams. The same went for the warp engines and thrusters, though impulse drive had been restored. Shran paced the room and twitched his antennae impatiently. Eventually, Garak stopped working and looked at Shran. 

“I’ve done everything I can on my end,” he announced, “you have control of every system via your computer it’s just the systems themselves that need repairing.” 

“How long do you suppose that will take?” 

“It will take as long as it takes. The Deep Space Nine engineering crews are very competent, I assure you, they will want to get the job done properly.” 

“In other words, slowly!” 

Shran punched a wall, then resumed pacing. 

“Maybe you need something to occupy your time,” Garak suggested. 

Shran ceased pacing and rounded on Garak. 

“And what precisely did you have in mind?” 

Garak reached upwards and stroked one of Shran’s antennae. The antenna twitched and curled around Garak’s hand appreciatively. The Cardassian’s other hand traced downwards under the Andorian’s trousers. 

“Garak…” Shran whispered in Garak’s ear, “that’s not my antenna.” 

“I know,” Garak growled. 

Garak rested his head on Shran’s shoulder, drinking in the heat from his warm blue neck. Shran’s arms worked their way into the Cardassian’s trousers and caressed his ajan. Garak hissed happily and continued to fondle the antenna and the not-antenna. Shran turned his head towards Garak’s neck and bit his ridge, which flushed a dark grey-blue. 

“Mmmm…I could just bite you till you’re as blue as me.” 

“Then how would I ever keep my hands off myself?” 

Just as Shran was about to reply, his communicator bleeped. 

“Talas to Shran.” 

“Shran here.” 

“Warp engine and transporters are ready.” 

Shran checked the computer. All of his engines and transporters were back online. He turned to Garak and reluctantly withdrew his hand from his pants, then grabbed the outfit Garak had given him and held it out for him. 

“I don’t really have anything to pay you with—besides, I have no further use for it.” 

Garak considered for a moment, then said, “no, you can keep it. I have enough money to get by.” 

“All through extremely honest means, I assume?” 

Shran raised an eyebrow. 

“Naturally.” 

“What am I supposed to do with it?” 

“I don’t know! Sell it to a rogue Ferengi? Wait, you know what Ferengi are, don’t you?” 

“Yes, I met one once…he and his cousins tried to raid a starship but were stopped by the crew. Afterwards, he took his cousin’s ship for his own and began trading around the quadrant. Handsome fellow.” 

“First a Ferengi, then me? You have some unusual tastes.” 

“Oh, I’m going to miss you.” 

Before Garak could snark him, Shran pulled him in for a kiss, drinking in that cold reptilian mouth one last time. 

“Let’s get you back to Deep Space Nine,” said Shran. 

He took Garak by the shoulders and steered him towards the transporter room, receiving several odd looks from both Shran’s crew and the repair teams. 

“What are you all staring at?” Shran yelled, “can’t I show a man to the transporter room? It’s not like he knows where it is!” 

“Are all Andorians as short-tempered as you?” Garak asked incredulously. 

“We’re not known for our patience,” Shran responded impatiently, “though I’m sure you already knew that, there are definitely Andorians on your space station.” 

“There are so many species on the station, it’s hard to notice just one.” 

“We’re bright blue!” 

“So are some other species. Bolians, for instance.” 

“What are Bolians?” 

“They’re…well, they’re blue.” 

“Ah. Of course, Mr Sexually-Attracted-to-the-Colour-Blue.” 

“I don’t make a habit of having relations with Bolians, their bodily fluids are somewhat…corrosive.” 

“Corrosive? I suppose you wouldn’t have to worry about that with your pinkskin.” 

“He doesn’t have pink skin!” 

“You know what I mean!” 

“I don’t have relations with him either.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s complicated. Lots of reasons. Cowardice, mostly. I get the impression you haven’t slept with your ‘pinkskin’ either.” 

“He’s…a little preoccupied with running his ship to notice me.” 

“Are you sure that’s the only reason?” 

Shran humphed and pressed the button to enter the transporter room. Shran and Garak entered just as a Bajoran engineering team was beamed back to Bajor. The Starfleet crews had now assembled in the transporter room and were preparing to beam back to the space station. Shran and Garak stood in a corner and said their goodbyes. 

“If there’s anything we Andorians abhor,” Shran whispered to Garak, “it’s cowardice. You tell your pinkskin how you feel about him and I’ll tell mine.” 

Garak sighed. 

“Must I?” 

“No…and I have no way of checking of you have…but I imagine you’ll be much happier if you do.” 

“What makes you think I’m unhappy?” 

“Come on, Garak, let’s not play games. You’re lonely—an Aenar could see it—” at the confused look on Garak’s face, he added, “a blind subspecies of Andorian.” 

“Ah. Well, in that case, I’ll be sure to speak to the doctor.” 

“You do that and I’ll speak to the Captain.” 

“I should go.” 

“Goodbye, Garak. I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together.” 

“So have I. Goodbye, Shran.” 

Garak and Shran stole a quick kiss before Garak stepped onto the transporter pad and waved at the Andorian as he was transported back to Deep Space Nine. Shran smiled and waved back as Garak dematerialised, feeling a bit sad but also strangely warm. 

When all the landing parties had left the Kumari, Shran made his way back to the bridge and resumed command. 

“Helm,” he announced, “head for the wormhole.” 

The Andorian battle cruiser flew towards the wormhole, which opened in a brilliant flash of light to allow it passage. 

“The anomaly is dead ahead, Commander,” said the pilot. 

“Take us in,” Shran replied happily. 

The Kumari manoeuvred into the anomaly. There was a white flash of light before the Andorians ended up on the other side. Unfortunately, they were in an open region of space with no distinct landmarks to tell them where, or indeed when, they were. 

“Did we make it back?” Shran asked generally. 

“I…can’t tell,” the navigator replied. 

After a few minutes of confusion, a hail came in. 

“Enterprise to Kumari, do you read me?” 

“Commander Shran of the Kumari here.” 

“Are you OK?” asked Captain Archer’s voice, “you just sort of appeared on our long-range sensors out of nowhere. Do you need any assistance?” 

Shran considered. He didn’t really need any help, but he did need to confirm he was back in the right time period and have a personal conversation with Archer. 

“It would be appreciated, Captain.” 

“Acknowledged. I’ll come over with a landing party.” 

“Thank you. I’ll go to the docking bay to meet you.” 

Shran left his second-in-command in charge of the bridge and made his way towards the docking bay. On his way, he took a slight detour to his quarters. On his bed was the tunic and trousers Garak had given him—the strange reptilian man from two hundred years in the future, who hadn’t even been born yet. It was strange to think about something that wouldn’t happen for two hundred years like this, but he hoped Garak had told his pinkskin doctor how he felt about him. He held the tunic close to his chest and thought about the man who had given it to him, turning his thoughts to the pinkskin currently en-route to the Kumari and how he was going to speak to him. 

Shran folded the clothing neatly and placed it in a drawer, then made his way towards the docking bay, still agonising over what he was going to say to Archer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And then Shran buggered Archer senseless. 
> 
> I hope you've all enjoyed this bizarre ride of a fanfic - now let's never speak of it again.


End file.
